


Dionysus

by ignis_kun



Series: The Greater Gatsbies: The Rangami Chronicles [6]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: Backstory, Beaches, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Kissing, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, M/M, Mutual Pining, Ocean, Past Violence, Pining, Reminiscing, Summer, Sunsets, Swimming, Water, Wine, mentioned death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:48:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27733300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ignis_kun/pseuds/ignis_kun
Summary: . Amami looks over his shoulder. His freckles are showing. No makeup. But he's beautiful all the same. He looks at him with the same amount of fondness he had been gazing at the sea with, but it's somehow different. A different kind. A different type of fondness.He shouldn’t be oggling at his friend. He shouldn't be oggling at all.“The water’s nice. Come in.”---Amami and Togami try and regain the childhood they lost while drunk.
Relationships: Amami Rantaro/Togami Byakuya
Series: The Greater Gatsbies: The Rangami Chronicles [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1984565
Kudos: 6





	Dionysus

**Author's Note:**

> Stream Dionysus Buttertones
> 
> Also I would like to put a warning here that there's a small moment that Togami recalls a manslaughter and nearly getting drowned, so if you'd like to skip that don't read the paragraph that mentions a bathtub and the paragraph/subparagraph after that. 
> 
> Some of this stuff, and the scenario may not make sense if you haven't read previous installments of this series! I encourage you to read those if you haven't yet.

The heat is unbearable outside. When Togami steps outside, it feels as if he's stepped into a sauna. The humidity is only eased by the fresh breeze of the sea that hits his cheeks whenever the wind blows onto his face. The sun has hung high all day until now when the sun has just begun to fall.

The hot sand under his feet feels coarse and seems to stick on his skin at any point of contact. The sweat makes him feel gross.

He and Amami have decided to have a drink on the coastline. Cheap wine again. It's a luxury they indulge in every so often. He takes another sip of his glass. It tastes cheap. He knows by the flavour. Something more expensive would  _ taste _ richer in both senses of taste and cost. They both don’t like it much. 

"Why do we keep doing this?"

"You're the one that buys it."

"I am," he sighs,  "Gotta stop getting so much of this stuff though, y'know? Should try to budget."

Togami downs the rest of his wine as soon as the word budget is uttered. He doesn't want to think about money. His first instinct is to say that both of them have enough, but upon checking his own bank account after a week on the road? It was empty. It's company money, not his own. He invested company money, he made the company money. They'll move on without him. Even if they’re worse off for it.

"You alright?"

"I'm fine." Togami eyes the wine beside Amami,  "Pass me the bottle."

"You sure? You've already had two glasses."

"Please. I can handle one more."

Togami can't handle one more glass. He  _ really _ can't handle one more glass. It's half an hour later that it all hits him at once, and he can really feel the buzz. He refuses to admit he's a lightweight. He absolutely refuses.

Amami steps into the water, barefoot. He has come out here barefoot. His eyes are a bit glazed over, but their vibrant green isn't held back by anything. The water looks purple in this light, with a few hints of orange on the horizon.

He tips the wine glass in his hand over, a few drops of purplish-red wine falling into the ankle-deep saltwater to be quickly carried away by the softly ebbing tide.

“You’re wasting wine.”

“The fish deserve to get drunk too.” Amami looks down at the glass in his hands,  "Thought you said you didn't like it."

For some reason, Togami finds this comment equally stupid as he does humorous. Amami tosses his glass into the sand. It lands safely, the rest of the liquid pouring out onto the sand. 

Amami rolls up his pant legs, cuffing them to just below his knees, wading into the water. The white, loose shirt tucked into his pants flows in the wind. It flows like curtains in front of an open window. Amami looks over his shoulder, purple, warm light casting onto him from the newly purple and pink sunset. He looks like an angel wrapped in fine linen cast to take his hand. His golden rings shine against the sunlight, it looks like there are stars in the palms of his hand. The crystal around his neck still stays dull. Rose quartz. 

He thinks the colours compliment him quite well. They look good on him. 

So does a smile, slightly yellowed by wine. Amami looks over his shoulder. His freckles are showing. No makeup. But he's beautiful all the same. He looks at him with the same amount of fondness he had been gazing at the sea with, but it's somehow different. A different kind. A different type of fondness. 

He shouldn’t be oggling at his friend. He shouldn't be oggling at all. 

“The water’s nice. Come in.”

It's a daunting request. The call of the siren luring an inexperienced sailor into unfamiliar waters, closer and closer with his voice and beauty. 

Yet, the siren doesn't plan to lead him to his doom. He plans to show him something new. To help him experience, to help him learn. To help him conquer a fear. To lead him beyond the seafoam on the shore into the salty waters. Amami doesn’t fear the danger of the water. There was a time in his life where Togami may have believed that it was because he didn’t know it, but Amami knows it far too well. 

“I’ll be right here.”

Togami takes a step into the water. The siren’s call has beckoned him with success. The water is cold at first, but refreshing against his skin and the heat of the outside world. Golden hair shines under the sun and purple hues. The humidity somehow seems escapable. 

What he's trapped in is his fear. His fear of the water suddenly getting deeper. His fear of drowning. His face doesn't indicate fear, but it indicates thinking. It's far too easy to think of the porcelain bathtub. The cold running water. The burning sensation in his nose. Gripping hair and pulling himself out. The sickening crack when he yanks the hair away.

Blood, blood on the edge of the tub. There's blood everywhere. The water is red. He was only twelve. His broken glasses in the water. He fished them out of the blood. He put them back on, shaking. He couldn't see out of one eye, only cracks. There’s a piece of glass stuck in his cheek. There’s a scar there now. 

Amami takes him by the hand, walking him further into the water until the water is hitting the middle of his thighs. 

“It’s not that bad, see?”  Amami finally drops his hand,  “You don’t need to be so scared of it. I see how you look at it all the time.”

Togami moves his hand and flicks some water into Amami's face.  "Please. I'm not scared of it. I could stand in the middle of it if I wanted to."

The water is flung right back at him. 

"You always stay away from the railing."

"I do  _ not. _ "

Another small wave. Some water gets into Amami’s face. He takes a step back. Togami takes a step forward. He does in fact stay away from the edge of the boat and the railing. 

"Really now?"

The wave is sent back. His shirt is wet, sprinkled with bits of saltwater. 

“What are you, a child?"

"I don't see you stopping, Togami."

He doesn’t plan on it either. They’re having a water fight like they’re middle-schoolers. Like the kids neither of them really got to be. Was this what people usually did? He doesn’t think of it for too long before he fully focuses on the feeling of cold water and little drops tossed at him. 

Togami’s smiling. He hasn’t smiled like this in awhile. He’s trying to keep his grip on his glasses, bringing his hands up to his face then back down at the water. They almost fall. Amami nearly reaches forward to catch them but sends a fistful of water at his chest as if he were tossing a snowball. 

Amami takes a step back, Togami follows. 

Another step followed. 

Another step, 

Amami stumbles, and he quickly steadies himself. There’s not even a flash of fear in his eyes, he only seems to be focused on him, like the world around him is empty. Amami brings a hand forward for a moment, but then pauses, withdrawing his grip. 

"You have a nice laugh."  Amami chuckles. He didn’t even realize he was laughing. 

He's flicked with water again, a bigger wave. They've been moving backwards into deeper and deeper water. It hasn't even dawned on Togami that he's in nearly chest-deep water. The water feels warm, welcoming. His hair's wet. His clothes are wet. Bits of hair stick to Amami’s face until he combs it back with his fingers. His nail polish is chipped. 

"Sorry, didn't mean for that to hit you straight in the face there."

He loves Amami.

It’s the inescapable truth that dawns on him as he watches him laugh, sending another wave of water his way that manages to hit his face. He feels so childish doing this, not a 20-year-old ex-heir who’s run away with his best friend, his only friend. He never cared much for friends before him. He feels  _ alive _ with him. More alive than he’s ever felt before this point. His chest feels light when he sees him smile and when he watches his fingers glide across the frets of his guitar. He’s fallen for the siren’s song. He’s fallen hopelessly in love with him. 

And it’s terrifying. Utterly terrifying. He doesn’t see it the same way Amami does. Just casually making out to pass the time. Because they’re bored. Because there’s nothing else to do. Because both of them long for some kind of affection the other can provide them with. 

He’s hopelessly fallen in love. Is it love? Is it infatuation? Is it some obsession with Amami's freedom, his free bird flight and his muttering affections to the sea, his love of the ocean.

The water is still hitting their shoulders.

He wishes he was the ocean.

They kiss. Still tastes like the awful sweet wine. 

“You’re one of the prettiest people I’ve ever seen." 

He's lying. He's drunk. He smiles. He takes a step deeper into the water.

"Liar."

"Why would I lie about that?”   
  
Togami can’t find a reason. 

“It’s getting dark, we should head inside.”

  
  
  


It’s later in the night.

Amami’s changed clothes and brought out another change for Togami. Is he wearing his own clothes? He recognizes the long sleeve from somewhere, but the sleeves have been rolled up to his elbows. The pants he recognizes as Amami’s. 

Are these his? He can’t tell. He heads off anyway, clothes in hand.

When he gets back, Amami’s already asleep on the couch. He’s at peace, or as peaceful as he’s seen him. There’s always a part of Amami that’s looked like a wild animal. Lightly sleeping, ready to hop into action or defend himself even with his relaxed attitude. He’s always looking, but not in any way that’s noticeable. He picks up on small details. He left his salt lamp on for the entire day. 

Something compels Togami, and he sits at the foot of the couch, right by Amami’s legs. There’s the salt lamp, staring right back at him. Something about the orange glow makes him a bit sleepy. 

It’s peaceful.

“Togami.”

Togami looks over, and Amami’s half-awake, smiling. One of his rings has been taken off. 

The one with the emerald on it. 

Amami showed it to him after he asked if he had gotten engaged considering how it looked. He quickly chuckled and said it was an heirloom from his mother’s side. 

“Over the past year, you have made me very happy.”  His words feel a bit sloppy and unpracticed. Tired and not of a man of sound mind. 

He looks back at him, eyebrow raised. Is he…?

“Are you proposing to me right after waking up?”   
  
“Maybe. You want it to be that?”

“Amami, I’m not going to take that.”   
Amami’s drunk. He’s trying to propose to him with a family heirloom that Togami knows he has no right to. If it had been closer to when they first met, maybe he would have. Just to have a little leverage, just to get that high ground over him. To be on top. Now, entertaining the idea feels wrong  _ because _ it’s Amami. He wouldn’t want to take something because of a mistaken drunk thought. 

Amami nods, withdrawing his hand for the second time that night. After a moment of silence, he speaks again. 

“My mom would have liked you.” 

Togami freezes on the spot. 

“You aren’t like my dad. You’ve got that. Don’t have to worry about that.”

Amami slips the ring back on his index finger, holding it up to the sky for a moment and looking at it. 

“She didn’t care if I was gay, y’know? Doubt she would have.”

Amami’s gay? 

“Used to have all these teas. Loose-leaf from this local store that got them imported from all these different places. She would have loved to talk about them with someone. Us kids never really understood a word out of her mouth. Hina was always trying to get at this… I think it was a cinnamon one at the top of her shelf. But mom always said no. That she wouldn’t like it. I hated it the one time she let me have it.”

Amami chuckles, letting his hand drop to his chest.

“Ended up liking coffee more in the end. Only thing you two would really disagree on is  _ how _ you take your tea. She put an unholy amount of sugar in hers, had a vendetta against drinking it plain.”

One thing that’s bothered him about this conversation. Amami’s overwhelming use of the past tense.  
  


“Did your mom pass away?”

The question comes out far too cut and dry, with no hint of the soft tone the question should have had.   
  


Amami shrugs.

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen her since.. since the court ruling I think.”

Amami closes his eyes and chuckles. 

“I miss her.. a lot.” 

Togami sometimes misses the fact he never really has a mother. He was practically taken right at birth then cared for by a maid like it was the medieval age. Togami doesn’t even know what she looks like. He’s never seen a photo of her. 

“I’d miss her as well. Natural that you do.”

A silence falls between them after that. The waves create a white noise that thunks against the boat in a steady rhythm. Togami was forced to learn to play the piano. He couldn’t not learn. It was an essential skill that he needed to meet. The steady ticking of the metronome went at the same tempo as the waves. He remembers the ticking getting under his skin, the feeling of keys beneath his fingers, the harsh critiques. 

Here it’s not the same. Here it’s gentle words muttered and not yelled. It’s a whisper from the waves.

Togami falls asleep, eyes fixed on Amami’s salt lamp and the back of his head resting against the side of Amami’s thigh. 


End file.
